


the devil and the deep blue sea | james norrington

by nihilisten



Series: my reader inserts [26]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Class Differences, F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Internal Conflict, Post-Curse of the Black Pearl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilisten/pseuds/nihilisten
Summary: We seduce the dark with pain and rapture, like ships that pass in the night.[james norrington/reader]
Relationships: James Norrington/Reader
Series: my reader inserts [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1048064
Comments: 12
Kudos: 81





	1. down in the doldrums

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know: I mostly only like the Curse of the Black Pearl, so that film is my basis and reference. In this story James is our familiar dutiful commodore, or at least, he should be. ;)

It had been a lively day in Port Royal. People curiously gathered at the harbour while men clad in red uniforms of the Royal Navy were running back and forth. The preparations mostly went as planned, though several curious civilians had managed to sneak their way into the harbour despite numerous warnings. The marines eventually turned a blind eye, for the celebration was too grand to care for trifles.

Elsewhere, Commodore James Norrington looked down at his uniform, then swept off a speck of dust from the sleeve. Today’s celebration was more than familiar for him, one that he had led many times before; yet, no matter how many times he participated, excited trembles of his chest would never die down. He enjoyed the feeling. After all, it was his passion that had led him to join the Royal Navy in the first place.

“Is everything ready?” He asked one of the servants.

“Yes, sir. The carriage is waiting outside.” The servant bowed his head in approval.

“Very well.”

After making sure he looked flawless, James stepped out of the residence – a rather smart, nicely located building, large enough for five people to live in. He entered the carriage and it rode down the streets, towards the harbour, drawing in curious gazes of the civilians. For some reason, he preferred not to meet those gazes. The misery and pain were so common in this world, and despite his best intentions he couldn’t allow them to interfere with his duty.

Successful, high in rank, surrounded by faithful subordinates and numerous servants at his every command. With everything – well, almost everything – he could possibly wish for, James Norrington considered himself a happy man, most of the time.

* * *

“I, hereby, name you the _Sunset_ , for you to light our way to serve the King. May this ship bring glory to the Crown and make us proud of boarding it. May it sail on the seven seas to our honour long after we draw our last breath.”

Loud applause; ropes were loosened and the craft landed in the water with a graceful splash. Women gasped in awe and men whistled in admiration, but it was only after looking at the ship when one realised their reaction was fully justified. It looked absolutely breathtaking, its sails preening in the sunlight like feathers of a swan. James allowed a shadow of a smile to dance on his lips. He felt an irrational rush of pride, as though the _Sunset_ was his own creation. In some way, it was now. It was under his command and he was going to make it part of his cause.

A few assigned men boarded the ship to let it boast around the waters for a while longer. People dispersed, be it for loss of interest or to see the ship from another part of the town.

“Sir,” a marine approached James once the commotion had quietened down. “Shall we move to Fort Charles now?”

“Yes, let us march there. Join the others,” he dismissed the man.

Before leaving to lead the forces, James cast one last glance at the harbour.

“Bring me joy, _Sunset_.”

The march in itself was somewhat of a demonstration, as usual, to show off to the civilians, to make them realise the power of the British army. As James guided the men through the main street, people would timidly step aside; not a hush was heard, not a cough. Everyone’s eyes were on them, taking in the glory and the duty that accompanied.

Then a party at the fort followed, marines and civilians alike, to celebrate the newest addition to the Royal Navy. Several people presented a speech, adding to the formality, and finally, James thanked the shipwright, before also receiving congratulations of his own.

“Let us enjoy this great day. Thank you.”

The last round of applause became a start of the social side of the celebration. Drinks and snacks were distributed; the royalty engaged with each other, avoiding the ones who did not exactly fit in and mostly came for the food, but were allowed nonetheless. Gossip, small talk – that was the reality of those of high status. Their everyday life.

Sipping alcohol from his glass, James strayed from the crowd to look at the _Sunset_ once more. Approaching the wall of the fort, where the sea could be seen, he took a deep breath, letting the refreshing scent of the air fill his lungs.

And then he noticed someone else there.

It could have easily been a dainty man, but upon closer look, he noticed that it was, in fact, a woman in men’s clothing. She sat on the edge of the wall, hair almost completely hidden in a hat, white collar of a shirt peeking from beneath a dark vest, and baggy trousers stuck into black high boots. What an unusual encounter. Curiously, he stepped closer.

No reaction; it appeared as though she hadn’t noticed him at all. But then the woman spoke up, nonchalantly as if to no one in particular, with him being the only one who could hear her words.

“Such a beautiful ship.”

Melodic, pleasant voice. Though he couldn’t see her face, he imagined an owner of such a voice must have been of young age. The idea seemingly collided with her attire – surely, a girl like her could not be leading a life of stalwart men?

Discarding those presumptions, James cleared his throat. “Yes, indeed it is.”

“Do you enjoy sailing, Commodore?”

The question took him aback, though not in an unwanted way. He was reminded of all the crafts he’d boarded, of all the hardships he’d gone through to reach where he was now. Good old times, and good old today.

“I do.” He smiled, though she was not looking at him. “What about you, miss? You’re a sailor, aren’t you?”

This was when the woman finally turned to look at him. Despite the hat, her hair was messed up by the wind, and her eyes twinkled in the shadow cast by the brim. He had been correct; she couldn’t have been older than twenty. Her face was rather beautiful, even elegant, regardless of the rough outfit she was wearing. He’d never seen anyone like her, she seemed so different to the aristocrat society with all of its ups and downs.

She extended her hand to him – to shake it, much like a man would.

“Y/N L/N. I just arrived to Port Royal today. I’m a traveller.”

Despite himself, James took her hand and shook it. He should have kissed it, probably, but it hadn’t occurred to him at the time. She didn’t seem to mind.

“Commodore James Norrington, at your service.”

“It is rather new to me, all of this.” Y/N adjusted her posture, looking far in the distance. “The formality, the ceremony. I’ve been to thousands of places, but it’s the first time that I’ve witnessed such a spectacle.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Asked James, cautiously, almost as if the foreignness would scare the woman off. “Or rather, are you?” She only laughed – an honest, carefree laugh gone with the wind as soon as it appeared.

“I most definitely am, even if I can’t understand it. That’s the exciting thing in life, isn’t it, Commodore? You never know what’s going to happen.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so a nod was his only response. At first, Y/N looked rather rough around the edges, only a few levels above nasty sailors who could drink all day and spoke foul words every other sentence. But the more she talked, the more that seemed like a mask, a disguise worn to be taken seriously by the people who wouldn’t ever listen to a fair lady in a pretty dress. Who was she really? What had brought her to Port Royal?

He didn’t ask.

“I rather like it here,” Y/N spoke up again, this time turning her gaze at him. “Perhaps I should stay for a while. The town is beautiful, the ships are magnificent and the people are nice.” The corner of her lips trembled playfully.

“Where are you going to stay?” An image of filthy inns full of despicable men flickered in James’s mind. For some reason he was sure that Y/N was all too used to those, and yet he couldn’t help but feel dread at the mere thought.

Before she could open her mouth, he added:

“Forgive my boldness, but I have plenty of room in my residence.”

Y/N chuckled, eyes widening slightly. “Oh, but Commodore. You don’t know me. Or do you always invite strangers from across the sea as soon as they set foot in your town?”

Though there was a sign of mockery in her voice, James wasn’t dismayed. “We are hospitable men, Miss L/N. It must be hard, to be alone in a place far away from home, with no one to turn to. Please consider my suggestion.”

She smiled, a somewhat shy smile as her eyes flickered towards the sea, towards the magnificent Sunset in its full glory. Then, she jumped to her feet, revealing that she was at least a head shorter than he was.

“Thank you, Commodore, I really appreciate your invitation.” She looked up at him. “But I am a free spirit, a wanderer. Luxuries and mansions are not for me. I shall stay in Port Royal – on my own terms.”

With that, she spun around and flashed him a smile, before leaving the fort and disappearing from his sight.

James stared there for a while, almost as if trying to burn her image into his mind. Then he finished his drink.

“Sir, who was she?” A marine approached him, looking rather curious about his superior’s acquaintances.

He couldn’t help looking once again in the direction where she’d left.

“ _A free spirit._ ”


	2. close to the wind

Life in the Royal Navy was mostly secure and predictable, though of course, had the circumstances arisen, every man would throw his life away for others’ sake without second thought. For now, though, the marines followed a familiar schedule: some guarded the docks, others boarded the ships, and the higher-ups had the dubious pleasure of reading documents and assigning orders. Such an honourable task!

“Sir, you are asked to see governor Swann. He’s waiting for you.” A servant entered James’s study, interrupting his train of thought. He looked up from the pile of papers, taken aback.

“Did he mention the matter?”

“No, sir.”

Numerous possibilities appeared in James’s mind like a map, an outline of options, each leading to a different pattern, but he discarded them eventually. Leaving his work behind, he put on a coat; the day was nice, sunny, with only a few clouds on the sky.

Outside the residence, Governor Swann’s carriage waited. The Governor greeted him with a smile and opened the door. James entered, albeit slightly confused.

“Commodore Norrington.” Swann’s face lit up as James sat next to him, as though the encounter was the most delightful thing to ever happen to him. “How good to see you again.”

“You asked for me, Governor? May I ask about the reason?”

Swann only chuckled, gently as if towards a child. “Do I need a reason to want a ride with my friend?”

James fell silent; ever since the trouble with Sparrow, his relationship with the Swanns had been rather awkward. He hardly saw Elizabeth anymore, and it was probably for the better. The Governor, though, wasn’t to blame for any of this, and James was relieved to know that he didn’t hold a grudge, either.

The carriage rode through the town, leisurely, as the two gentlemen shared a conversation for the first time in a long while.

“Are you enjoying being a commodore?”

“Oh, certainly. It’s a great responsibility, but I’m proud to be bearing it.” James smiled to himself.

“Everyone is also proud to have you as their commodore,” Swann added. “It takes but a stroll around to hear people praising you.”

“Does it now?” That was an unexpected, though obviously a pleasant surprise. “I have yet to prove myself.”

But the Governor might have been correct. James usually avoided looking at ordinary people, yet now, when he glanced through the carriage window, men and women smiled in his direction, bowing their heads in respect, as if they were genuinely happy to see him. He was shocked. They had a reason to smile, despite all the hardships and injustice that he couldn’t possibly imagine nor fully prevent, though God knew he was trying to.

It felt healing.

Swann kept smiling with fondness over James’s reaction. “You’re a good commodore, Norrington.”

Not used to being complimented, James only cleared his throat.

“How is Elizabeth doing?”

The question was voiced before he could contain himself. Silence fell; but the Governor was neither surprised nor offended. “She’s in good health. Quite happy, too.”

“That’s good to hear. Good indeed.” James couldn’t tell whether that sounded sincere.

“What about _you_ , Commodore?”

That. That was the question he was afraid of being asked. Was he doing okay, or was he simply putting up a façade, a mask of a respectable man, so that the people felt safe and the marines had someone to look up to? Had the scar in his heart healed, or was it faintly pulsing, not enough to be painful, but enough to be unforgettable?

…He couldn’t answer.

The carriage passed by the harbour; sailors, merchants and others preoccupied in their tasks were somewhat of a soothing image. They had a calm, peaceful life, life so foreign to James’s own. Harder in some ways, but easier in others.

Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared in his field of view, briefly, leaving James to wonder if he saw it really, or if it was just his mind playing tricks. He looked again; a person in sailor’s clothes walked down the pier, strands of hair peeking from under a hat.

No doubt, it was _her_.

Without realising that he was fixing his gaze on her, James watched Y/N talk to a harbourmaster. Soon another man joined in, gesticulating heavily. There seemed to be a conflict of some sort; Y/N remained composed, but the man started shouting as if trying to convince the harbourmaster. When it hadn’t got him anywhere, he turned to Y/N and hit her in the face.

She fell to the ground. The harbourmaster withdrew quickly, while people in the harbour watched curiously as the attacker shook Y/N’s frail figure. No one seemed to want to interfere, let alone save her.

In horror, James grabbed the doorknob with enough force to pull it out if he really tried.

“Please stop the carriage!”

Though Swann could not have possibly seen the incident, he commanded a halt nonetheless. Before leaving, James turned over his shoulder to look at Swann’s confused face. “Forgive me, Governor.”

Then, he jumped out, and started running towards the pier.

Thanks to the crowd, his way was obstructed. James rushed in full speed, jumping over a fence to shorten the distance; several people moved out of his way and some marines, alarmed, followed him. At the pier, he saw Y/N get up only to be grabbed my the man again.

“Let go of me, you scum!” The wind, carrying her voice, swished in his ears as he ran.

The reality was different for everyone. To James, the duty was everything. But there were also people who struggled everyday, who resorted to the most despicable deeds to survive. Would he ever be able to understand? Probably not. But it was part of his duty to at least try.

Finally, he got to the pier, his boots clanking on the wooden planks and the marines following a few steps behind. Then, to James’s great surprise, he saw Y/N swing his fist at the attacker. It was quick; a second, a mere moment of precise power that neither James nor the man had expected, and the latter slumped down to the ground with a groan, knocked out.

“Miss L/N!”

Finally, James reached her; she turned around, eyes widening in shock, rubbing her sore fist.

“Commodore…?”

His men also arrived. They forced the attacker awake and pulled him to his feet, though apparently he was not done with anger yet.

“This whore! She stole my docking place!”

“Now, do calm down, mister.” One of the marines cuffed his hands together, then patted his back. “You need some rest, and you’ll be getting plenty.”

“So that’s the Royal Navy for you! Laughable! You’ll pay for this—”

Despite the man’s protests, they dragged him away to the town; any potential onlookers had also gone. Now that they were alone, Y/N looked up to James, crestfallen, locks of hair fluttering in the wind from under her hat.

After a moment of awkward silence, James decided to speak up. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I am.” She gave him a smile. “But how did you get here so quickly?”

“I saw the incident from across the street. It’s my duty to react in situations like these.”

The expression that appeared on her face wasn’t something he could quite pinpoint. Surprise, disbelief, even caution, as if she was more wary of the authorities than random miscreants who threw tantrums for no reason. He hated that expression.

“There was no need to panic, Commodore,” she laughed, abashed. “I know how to deal with the likes of him. Thank you, though,” she added, having realised that James had indeed intended to help her. “It was nice of you.”

Nice? He didn’t think of it as ‘nice’. It was natural, something than any decent person would have done, and especially if they were a servant to the Crown. But Y/N seemed to have a different opinion; she probably didn’t often see people helping each other out of pure kindness. He wanted to ask where she’d learned to defend herself, how many times she’d dealt people like that miserable man. Instead, he noticed her palms rubbed together, bruised from the hit she’d blown.

Without giving it much thought, he extended his hand. “May I?”

“It’s nothing.” She clung her hands closer to her chest. “I’m used to it.”

“I insist, Miss L/N.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Y/N relaxed her palm to rest it in James’s. He took it, gently, careful as if not to hurt her more. Her knuckles were covered in scratches, some of them open from the blow. It was hardly serious, but enough for him to feel… bad.

“I told you it’s nothing.” She didn’t withdraw, despite the embarrassment for making him worry for no reason.

Except to him, it wasn’t no reason. Granted, there was no way for him to know what she’d been through. She might have seen the cruellest of fates, encountered the worst of people. This palm he was holding was the proof that Y/N’s life differed, drastically, from his own.

But was it wrong of him to want to make a change, to relieve her, if only a little?

Not taking his eyes off hers, not for a second, he slowly brought her palm to his lips.

“No”—she tried to protest—“It’s all bloody—”

Objections were futile; James silenced them by planting a kiss on the scratched knuckles.

Y/N’s face became almost horrified.

It was not his intention to make her uncomfortable, yet frankly, he couldn’t explain his actions. It was an impulse, an urge he hadn’t been able to resist. Nevertheless, her palm escaped as soon as he allowed it to. As he looked at Y/N, she turned her face to the side, ashamed.

Realising what he’d done, James cleared his throat. “I… I apologise. It was too forward.”

She looked back at him, eyes full of reproach. Her lips opened, but then she seemed to change her mind, and only sighed.

“You should get your wound treated,” he stated calmly.

No response.

“Allow me to escort you to your accommodation, at the very least.”

“Why?” She suddenly changed her approach, and stared right into his eyes. “Do you always play the hero? Or did you forget how inappropriate it is for you to engage with someone like me? Be honest, Commodore.” Though she did not look offended nor shy, there was somewhat of a challenge in her voice. “Tell me what you really think.”

James opened his mouth, but no words came.

People like him had everything. He wasn’t starving, he had a place to sleep in and every entertainment he could have possibly imagined. He was blessed with a good life, no doubt about that. Yet, for some reason, the unknown was calling to him… and he, fascinated, couldn’t seem to take his eyes off it, just like the poets longingly looked up to the stars, unreachable as they were.

Sometimes what you couldn’t have was the most tempting.

Y/N furrowed her brows in anticipation, but he would not allow himself to be provoked, not even by her. Instead, he straightened his posture and replied simply:

“It is neither heroic nor inappropriate. I just hate to see a woman mistreated, Miss L/N. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Leaving Y/N awestruck, he turned around to leave.


	3. batten down the hatches

Governor Swann was not malcontent due to James’s sudden departure. Quite the contrary; once his friend had returned and shared the whole story, Swann’s mood vastly increased, almost boasting with pride. Whether or not he was more content with James or himself remained a mystery.

“See? I was not wrong in my judgement. You are, indeed, a good commodore.”

James didn’t confirm nor deny. His mind was elsewhere – at Y/N’s side, trying to crack the code to her mystery. But it was impossible at his current state, with all he knew being her name which might as well have been fake. He had to pull some strings… as much as he did not enjoy doing so.

The next day, he ordered one of the servants to search in the town, ask for Y/N L/N, her whereabouts, anything. After a few hours, the servant returned, only to say that no inn hosted such a person, and no one had seen anyone who fitted her description.

Once the servant was away, James poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed it at once. The alcohol helped him think straight, if only a little. What on Earth was going on with him? This was perfectly rational to research her. This woman, he had no idea who she really was. Appeared out of nowhere, and now, _was_ nowhere. For all he knew, she could have been a robber or a spy.

Except that was not the reason why James wanted to find her, and he was well aware of it.

Pitiful.

Was it because of Elizabeth’s rejection that he had started chasing imaginary butterflies? No – that was a closed chapter, one that he’d sealed deep in the depths of his heart, over and done with. He was not one to overthink nor to wallow in self-pity. There was nothing to pity anyway!

His mind was running, running fast, and he felt like going mad. Suddenly he decided to take a stroll, just like that: to clear his thoughts, breathe fresh air, forget it all.

He walked without even realising where he went. As if through a dream, he only stopped once he’d reached the empty fort – the place always soothed him somehow, with the beautiful landscape and many memories.

Sitting there, looking down at the sea, was Y/N.

James staggered, a wave of déjà-vu knocking him out of mental balance. He’d had this before. Not long ago, under similar circumstances, his path had crossed with hers.

“So we meet again, Commodore.”

Her voice was devoid of anything, he had no way of telling whether she was glad, impatient or trying to mock him. But he had long given up trying to understand; the only thing that mattered now was clinging to his sanity for dear life.

“Why are you impossible to find?”

She let out a short laugh, then gestured at him to sit next to her. He did.

“Why did you want to find me?”

“I… don’t know.” It should have felt humiliating, to be at a loss for words. Especially with her. Maybe his heart had already gone completely numb. “You made me.”

Discarding her hat, Y/N let her hair flutter around her head like a halo.

She had him wrapped all around her little finger, like an open book for her to read as she pleased. He hated that. He _loved_ that. People around him were always obedient, respectful, _he_ was the one in charge. With Y/N, it was the exact opposite—it was exciting.

Y/N glanced at him sideways, as if his confusion amused her endlessly. The smile on her lips was unreadable.

“I travel all around the world.” She said suddenly. “I collect whatever catches my eye, and sell it to those who are interested. I’ve traded with merchants, aristocrats, rogues. It is a simple life, but one of a great satisfaction. Port Royal seems promising, I must say. I’ve already made a few good deals,” she added with a gleam in her eyes.

James remained silent, unsure what to make of the sudden story. Perhaps she’d told it purely to feed his obvious curiosity, which it did, actually. Except that it made no sense. Nothing made sense when it came to Y/N L/N, what if she was a smuggler? What did she collect? Goods, or people’s minds…?

“I have probably done things that you wouldn’t approve of, yes,” she said as if reading his thoughts. Even then, her expression remained amused. “What are you going to do, Commodore? Arrest me?”

“Your insolence is astonishing.”

“Why, thank you.” She laughed. All of a sudden all he wanted was to wipe that smile off her face.

“I suppose I do need to take action then. Would you join me for dinner tomorrow?”

The proposition surprised them both. Something changed in her face, and it was James’s turn to feel satisfaction; she should know who she was up against.

“Let me add that I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Ah, Commodore.” Y/N smiled. “How could I say no to you?”

Like a siren, luring him to his demise, she pulled him closer.

Voice a mere whisper, he held her hand, way more tightly than it was appropriate. “Shall I send a carriage for you?”

“I’ll manage on my own,” she objected. “After all, I’m impossible to find, am I not?”

* * *

Deep sea.

That was about the only thing which made her heart dance.

Y/N L/N – that’s who she was now – considered herself one of the few people who actually understood it. Born and raised aboard, she’d spent most of her life sailing, only ever coming ashore when she had to. Unlike those vulgar goons who dared call themselves sailors, she knew her way around under the toughest of circumstances, without chickening out, without backing down. The sea had formed her into a fearless person who would rather die than become like _them_. And she took pride in that.

Unfortunately, despite her utmost adoration, the sea was sometimes too close for comfort. Multiple times she’d fled, changed identities, wriggled like an eel before settling down for a moment, only to long for the waters soon enough. Perhaps the danger called out to her as loud as the sea did. Port Royal seemed like a good place, but she could only take so much of it before she’d feel suffocated.

And then there was that commodore, Norrington.

The man was smart, had power and countless subordinates. Clueless – for now. There was no doubt that he’d finally put the pieces together, and when he did, she’d have to act quick. Accepting his invitation was risky. Very risky, but there was a lot to gain, too. Getting close to a person of such position could prove incredibly beneficial.

So on the appointed day, wearing clothes as elegant as she could find – but still male – Y/N knocked on the door to a rather striking residence. How could one live in such a place? Wasn’t it unnecessary to have so many rooms if only one could be occupied at once? Her ponderings were interrupted by the door opening and a servant (whose outfit, she vaguely noticed, must have cost ten times as much as her own) greeting her.

“The Commodore is awaiting you.”

As she entered, Y/N could feel the servant’s scornful gaze boring holes in her back. The irony! Even a person who served someone else could look down on those of an even lower status.

To her relief, she wasn’t alone with the servant for long, and soon Commodore Norrington appeared at the door to what must have been a dining room. A distinguished smile brightened his rather handsome features as he took her palm (now clean) to kiss it.

“Thank you for coming, Miss L/N.”

He led her to the dining room which was larger than every house she’d ever occupied. Numerous dishes lay on the table; Norrington pulled back a chair for her to sit and she thanked him with a smile.

As he sat down too, Y/N pretended to take in the might of his mansion. In fact, it wasn’t special or better than the ones she’d been to before. More nicely furnished, maybe, and decorated with a good taste, she had to give him that.

“I’m delighted to make your acquaintance tonight.” Norrington spoke up. “I hope you enjoy our meal.”

“I appreciate it,” she only replied, not daring to make a move before he did. Just to be safe.

The dinner was delicious indeed, she had never eaten so much and so well. Norrington would talk, she would play along, but ultimately, it felt incredibly boring, and it was beyond Y/N’s comprehension how people could engage in such activities every day. At least Norrington seemed like a decent person and did not try to loosen her tongue. Though, who knew what his true colours were like?

“Very impressive, I must admit.”

As the meal progressed, Y/N decided to try start a conversation herself. Even though those of his status probably _adored_ hearing their own voice, it was safer to make sure that Norrington was not the one talking all the time.

“What is?” He inquired.

“Oh, everything. Your residence. The dinner. You.”

Norrington smiled, somewhat abashed. Then, as if to boost his spirits, he raised a glass full of wine.

“To our meeting.”

“To the future,” she added, provocative, yet no reaction came. It felt almost impressive how professional he acted, whether among his peers or next to her.

The glasses soon got emptied.

They were both trying to examine the other. This idiotic farce almost made her laugh; disgusting habit of pulling pretty faces to achieve one’s goal, except that she was only doing it for survival. People like him, the farce _was_ their everything. They’d been pretending all their life, knew nothing else but it, they were never sincere—at least that was how Y/N tried to justify her own pretence, to feel above _them_ , though it didn’t sound very convincing, not even to herself.

Since that evening, their little rendezvous had become somewhat of a tradition. They would take a stroll every other evening, occasionally finish with a dinner. Norrington acted nothing but sweet and Y/N was starting to feel doubtful. Was he really the one? He didn’t—he couldn’t have been so good at hiding his true face all the time. No one was, not even her. Yet something felt off.

One of those strolls, they walked by the seaside. It was dark now and the only people around were late night workers and drunkards on their way to bars.

“I am truly enjoying our appointments, Miss L/N.” Norrington stated as they slowed down to look at the sea. “It is a great pleasure to spend time with you, let alone make it regular.”

Y/N wouldn’t let herself be distracted. “Likewise, Commodore.” She smiled. “It is only my honour that you’re willing to make it regular.”

“James.”

“Huh?” She looked at him, confused.

“It’s James. I thought…” He paused, then seemed to realise that formalities weren’t useful anymore. “Just call me James.”

Y/N fixed her eyes on him; but no matter how hard she stared, his mind would stay a mystery, an unknown factor that she couldn’t find despite her best efforts.

“James…”

Her mind was a whirlwind. So was her stomach when Norrington closed the distance, locking lips with her gently as if not to startle her. The kiss was just like himself: firm yet soft, he held her by the shoulders and she could not comprehend… She was lost.

He pulled away far too soon to her liking, the darkness hiding his expression. He cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“I… I apologise. I shouldn’t—”

In that moment, the sky lit up, bright orange like it was on fire.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. Her mind was already preparing for the worst, and then she realised that he wasn’t even aware—

“Duck, Commodore!”

Before he could react, her light body crashed into him; he lost his balance and they both fell to the ground with a thud. Seconds later, a cannonball pierced the air where he had been standing, only to crash into a building nearby, shattering its wall into pieces.

Norrington stared there in disbelief. Redcoats started running towards the fort, setting off their own cannons to defend the town. Someone let out a scream.

Heart pounding in her chest, Y/N pulled his sleeve impatiently.

“James, you must hide. They are after you.”

“After me?” He repeated, dumbstruck, as if she was speaking a foreign language. “That’s absurd… How do you…?”

But once he saw her face – her troubled, troubled face – it was clear that the question should have remained unanswered… though it wasn’t going to for much longer.

Y/N grabbed his arm and forced him to run. Port Royal saluted them with thundering cannonballs and an orange sky.


	4. we never miss the water till the well runs dry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this makes little sense and is extremely dramatic.

Everything collapsed into chaos. People ran for their life, panicking, and the red of military coats blended with the colour of fire as they tried to counterattack. Gunshots, cannonades and flares echoed like the heavens were about to crumble.

Among the hell breaking loose, Y/N kept pulling Norrington by his sleeve. They’d managed to avoid the centre of the turmoil, but it was only a matter of time. Soon enough, nowhere in Port Royal would be peaceful.

“Over there!” She shouted, making herself heard above the thunder claps only by miracle.

They reached the side of a nearby square – empty, of course; not even an idiot would choose to hide at an open space at a time like this. Kneeling next to a wall, for a few second they stayed motionless, cautious even to catch their breath.

“Y/N, this is ridiculous,” Norrington hushed a whisper, barely audible among the commotion. “If they, whoever they are, want to face me, I will not back down. That is not what I am a commodore for.”

“Yes, and then they kill you. Is the bravery really worth more than your life?” Y/N spat out, gripping his arm with enough force to be painful. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’d rather die with honour than live without it.”

The click of her tongue resounded loud despite the rumble. How she’d grown to hate this mindset! “There was a time when I would agree with you, but now…”

No, there was no time for idle talk. They had to get to the harbour, and get there quick, before _they_ arrived.

She stood up and glanced around to make sure no one was around, just in case, though obviously nothing had changed during those few minutes. Pulling Norrington up by the arm, she studied the surroundings.

“Alright, let’s go.”

They must have looked funny, sneaking around like a pair of little kids playing hide-and-seek. She couldn’t care less now. Clinging to a corner, Y/N waved at Norrington to follow her.

She was just about to turn around and progress, when Norrington’s face filled with alarm.

“Watch out!”

His warning was late. Y/N, a sword pointing at her throat, stopped in her tracks, its owner obstructing her vision like a horrid nightmare she couldn’t wake from.

She knew this man. Behind him, several of his acquaintances, each ready to attack, encircled them like wolves encircle their prey. Not long ago, they and she had shared a deck, though none of them was particularly happy about that. And then things had happened, she’d lost her crew, her ship and her reputation… But there’d still been one thing worth clinging to—word had spread around about a fearless commodore who’d brought down countless of pirates…

Norrington, immediately, reached for his sword, though the odds of resisting ten men were against him. She should have carried her own sword despite the risk of getting exposed. Yes, she should have—

“Look who we’ve got here!” The man holding the sword to her throat – their leader – grinned. “It’s been a while, cap’n.”

“Shut up.” She hissed. “I’m Y/N L/N now.”

Much like a thunder, laughter rumbled in their stomachs, full of contempt. Norrington stepped closer as if to lower the risk of being separated should they end up in fight.

“Y/N. Sweet Y/N who couldn’t get her job done.”

“Unlike you, I check my information, Davis.” Y/N rested her hands on her hips, almost accusingly. “You would jump on every redcoat out there, I know you would. But that’s idiotic.”

“Oh, really?” Davis’s expression darkened, his sword touching Y/N’s throat. A droplet of blood trickled down her neck. “Is this why you were running away with him?” He pointed at Norrington, who, still in the fighting stance, sent glares from under his hat.

Y/N fell silent. God, why had she got dragged into this mess? All she’d wanted was to check if the word was true. Use it to her benefit, perhaps. Nothing else, nothing more.

“Would you care to explain, Y/N?” Norrington wasn’t looking at her, but his question struck just right, causing her to bit her lip and Davis to flash a wicked smile.

“How cute. Did she forget to mention that she was the infamous Scarlet Calamity?”

Norrington’s eyes flared up with something that Y/N had never seen before, not in anyone. He grabbed her hand, firmly; the pirates suddenly stepped back as if to have a better view, and once Norrington’s eyes had landed on a pirate mark on Y/N’s skin, his expression became furious.

What had she done?

“Scarlet Calamity, isn’t it?” He sounded calm, too calm to her liking, and that gleam in his eyes was anything but positive. She could now believe the rumours about Commodore Norrington. “Famous pirate captain who is hunted among the seven seas, to be punished with death.”

The grip on his sword, as well as on her arm, tightened.

“You.”

“Aye, her!” Davis shouted as if to fuel Norrington’s rage. “In your own town, spying on you because she knew you’ve no mercy for pirates. Good for nothing, really! Even her own crew turned their back on her.”

“I’d rather be abandoned than engage in your pitiful pillages and meaningless murders,” Y/N hissed, eyes fixed on Norrington. “I might be a pirate, but don’t put me together with the likes of _you_.”

As if there was a hierarchy; no one would fall for that.

“So this is why you arrived here pretending to be a collector?” Norrington’s words formed a question, yet his tone did not need answer. “I’m not as hopeless as you take me for, you know.”

“What…?”

“After no one could find your whereabouts, I took a different approach. No boat of yours docked at the harbour, but word got out that a ship had crashed near Port Royal sometime ago – a pirate ship.” He smiled. “No pirates were caught, but a certain freigther had picked up a castaway, then docked here, in this town,” he finished, still smiling, eyes cold as ice. “Following the bread crumbs, it had become obvious that you were an outlaw, the missing pirate from the wreckage. Though it exceeded my wildest dreams that you were also the Scarlet Calamity herself. I’m almost impressed.”

So that was it. She’d underestimated him. She thought she’d been wooing him, yet it was him who actually had wooed her. All along, she’d been tying her own noose.

Served her right, she had to admit.

Y/N swallowed hard. Her own voice couldn’t be trusted anymore. “Then why didn’t you arrest me when you had the chance?”

“For the same reason you did not kill me. I wanted to make sure if my assumptions were correct. And…” He fell silent. Disregarding all eyes fixed on him, the sentence remained incomplete.

Foolish. Both of them, completely hopeless.

Y/N lowered her head.

“Alright, Commodore. You win. And to think that I almost believed I was wrong in my judgement.”

With that, she jumped to tackle one of the pirates. Taking him by the surprise, she managed to grab his sword; a few other men attacked her but she fought them off, then started running. Davies’s voice ‘After her!’ reached her ears, but she knew this was going to be much more than just a bunch of miscreants wanting to kill her.

This was about every pirate and every marine.

What the outcome would be depended solely whether or not she would survive tonight.

* * *

Once Y/N had disappeared, the pirates turned to James, who was not having any of it. Excellent swordsman he was, he kept up with at least five pirates attacking him. Soon enough, his men had realised what was going on and joined the fight; and before dawn, most of the pirate crew had ended up in prison, waiting for their appointment with the gallows.

Y/N was nowhere to be found, again.

Port Royal had managed to avoid serious damage, and no pirate reinforcements arrived either. Governor Swann even congratulated James on having defeated dangerous outlaws, but he couldn’t bring himself to rejoice. Like a splinter, something kept on burning in his heart.

The Scarlet Calamity was not exactly a feared pirate. She sailed on the Caribbean, mostly smuggling goods and selling them, pretending to be a merchant. This was hardly the worst crime, but still, piracy. And piracy was punishable with death.

Ever since he started digging up about her, he’d known it would end bad. Yet he wouldn’t—he couldn’t resist meeting her that past few weeks. The strolls they’d took, the dinners, they were supposed to be a cover-up to lull her into a false sense of security, to gain advantage and let her think that she was the one pulling the strings.

Wasn’t she though? Why did he feel like enchanted, under her spell and hopeless in her grip, despite all the information he’d managed to gather?

Perhaps at some point their false pretences had merged with the reality, impossible to be told apart anymore.

Once the commotion had died down and fragile peace returned to the town, a hunt was organised. Marines found no trace of Y/N in Port Royal, but there were no signs of boats having set off last night either. She was still here, bottled up for as long as she managed.

And she would either escape or die.

At dawn, James found himself at Fort Charles, gazing up at the pale sky, so different from mere hours ago. Most cannons had got abandoned mid-commotion and left as they stood, creating a rather messy image. Now, at this hour, the fort seemed like the most peaceful place in the world.

It wasn’t the smartest decision to come here alone, after an attack.

But he wanted to lure her out.

Eventually, she did appear; clicking of her boots reached him from behind, calm and even like a clock counting down to their doom. He remained motionless, allowing her to walk up closer. He was calm. He’d dealt with worse.

Then, another click resounded; a mechanical one.

He turned to face her, but found himself facing a barrel instead.

“Y/N.”

Her face was empty like a mask. No – her eyes betrayed her, so did the tremble of her hand. It was too late now to hide anyway, them standing there the best proof to that.

“I’m not asking you to understand, James.” Her voice was quiet, as if speaking louder would crumble her brittle disguise. “Everything went wrong. I was supposed to use you to take revenge on my former crew, or kill you had you turned out to be an obstacle.”

“And I didn’t? You flatter me,” James let out a dry laugh.

“No, you didn’t.”

It was all meaningless now. Whatever they said could not undo the past weeks, could not make them any more or less real than they actually were.

One of them had to die.

“It’s a real pity, Commodore… You are indeed, a rather fine gentleman.”

Her eyes glimpsed of sadness; James could almost feel the cold socket of the barrel aiming at his head.

It should never have come to this. The person who he had met those weeks ago didn’t exist, and never had. He shouldn’t have let an illusion he’d created in his mind to take a hold of him. Everything that had happened because of it was his own fault.

Served him right, he had to admit.

The woman who’d taken his breath away pointed a gun at him because only his death could ensure her safety. At the same time, his duty gave him no choice but to condemn her the first chance he got. There was no good solution.

“Y/N…”

Words failed him. He closed his eyes and waited.

Waited—waited—and suddenly a sharp voice invaded his ears.

“Commodore!”

His men, identical red uniforms of the Royal Navy standing out in the colourless scene, swarmed at the fort. Soon they encircled them both, weapons pointed at Y/N, merciless, distant, indifferent, much like the pirates had a few hours ago.

“Drop the gun! Drop the gun!”

She could still shoot him if she really wanted to, but the marines’ weapons would pierce more holes in her than it was worth it. Her pistol fell to the ground with a metallic clank. She raised her hands to show surrender.

Slowly regaining his senses, James looked around the marines’ faces, frozen in an expression of gloomy devotion. They were but awaiting orders – one word and Y/N would end up resembling a sieve, perforated and equally lifeless. Staggering, he forced himself to stand upright.

“Lower your weapons,” he commanded, voice quieter than he’d like it to be. “Lower them, for God’s sake!”

Flabbergasted, the marines obeyed one by one, eyes not leaving Y/N’s posture. James knelt to pick up her pistol. She was harmless now. Her fate was in his hands.

“Do what you must do, James.”

He didn’t dare turn around to face her. It wasn’t how he’d imagined. After Elizabeth, James hadn’t expected to feel _anything_ ever again, up until Y/N thrilled his life, if only a little. And now… Now, even this small thrill was going to die down, because it couldn’t coexist with his order.

“Oh, Y/N.” A miserable sigh escaped his lips. “Why must you be a pirate?”

“What do you do now, James? Hang me? Order them to shoot me? Make me beg for forgiveness? I would, if there was even a slight chance,” she chuckled. God, she was smiling, he couldn’t force himself to look at her but he knew she was smiling.

“Do you realise that if I let you go, you must leave and never come back—never get _caught_?”

“I knew it would come to this.” Y/N ignored his question. “I should have shot you and escaped while I could, they’d never find me. But for some reason, I… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” Her palm, rough and warm, rested on his shoulder. “If death is the price to pay for my weakness, then I shall pay it.”

Silence fell, save for a quiet hush among the marines. James bit his lip, wanting to reject her hand, but she withdrew it before he could even think of it.

“Lock her up.”

The marines needed no repeating. One men cuffed Y/N’s hands together while other two held her, and soon the commotion was gone, escorting her to prison.

James stayed behind.

The depths of the sea far below looked very friendly.


	5. sink or swim

Prison was not something to faze her. In her lifetime she’d been caught, threatened, sneaked up on, shot at and countless other things she couldn’t even remember; this simple cell, neighbouring with others who shared her fate, didn’t even compare – and yet, this wasn’t a stalemate. It was a crushing defeat.

Days came and went. Imprisoned, she didn’t know how much time had passed. She couldn’t bring herself to care; shortly, it would all end and nothing would be left, not even a bloodstain on the sand. Ironic.

That night, lying on an uncomfortable plank bed, she was drifting between sleep and consciousness, mares from the past sleeping in the back of her mind. Other prisoners had long given up on trying to grab her attention and were either napping, playing games or trying to summon the guard dog, a rather cute animal who held the cell keys.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the prison hall as someone descended the stairs. Several prisoners made curious noises, some even called out to the newcomer, only to be ignored; a tall, dark-clothed man walked straight up to Y/N’s cell, stopping in front of it like a ghost, quiet and motionless. She glanced at him, but made no movement. Surely, they wouldn’t execute her in the middle of night?

“Get up.”

Or maybe they would.

She did. A dirty piece of cloth was put over her head and the man guided her out of the building. Outside, several other voices talked to the man, though she couldn’t make out a single word. They forced her into a carriage and once it set off, Y/N realised should they shoot her right now, she would die unaware. She wouldn’t even know.

Perhaps it was better that way.

After some time (minutes? Hours?), the carriage stopped. The men guided her somewhere indoors, she could tell from the warmth on her skin and softness under her feet. Then, a push on her shoulders caused her to trip and she landed soft, in a sitting position, perhaps on a sofa.

No, it couldn’t be.

The arms holding her let go to remove the cloth from her head. Dazzled, she blinked to get used to the light; she was in a neatly decorated room and before her stood none other than James Norrington.

Having dismissed the men who’d brought her here, Norrington fixed his gaze on Y/N’s face, shiver running down her spine. Truly, this man was more than she’d expected in her wildest dreams. His eyes, his presence, everything was so intimidating, so overwhelming that she wouldn’t dare move a little finger.

Luckily to her, he spoke soon enough.

“I don’t want to make this long.” Curt, indifferent sentence. “But I probably will and you have no choice but to keep silent and listen.”

She nodded, yet Norrington didn’t pay her any mind anyway. Leaning over his writing desk, he pretended to look at some documents as if to assert his disregard.

She waited, breath hitched.

“I have no authority to pardon your faults. Being one of the most known pirates around, hanging you would surely be a spectacle,” Norrington started, voice emotionless. “I could take potential redemption into consideration, or recollect the fact that, technically, you saved my life. That, however, won’t happen.”

He paused, then walked up again, piercing her with those stern eyes. She couldn’t take it; those eyes, they were the worst, cold as ice, merciless… Foreign.

“How far would you go to save your life?”

Y/N froze. “What?”

“Answer me. Would you do anything to survive?”

The answer was there, she knew it; it floated on the surface on her mind, within her reach, yet unclear somehow.

Throughout her turbulent life, she’d been forced to drift with the current more often than not – abandon identities, lie, deceive, do things no one would be proud of. It wasn’t an easy life, but for some reason, she was sure that what she was about to hear would reach a whole new level.

Norrington didn’t like her hesitation. “It was you who said that bravery is not more important than one’s life. That it’s stupid to cling to honour if it’s the cause of your demise.”

“Yes, yes I did, I did, okay?” Y/N shut her eyes and fists alike, as if it could stop the images in her head. “Yes, I… I guess I have to put my money where my mouth is. I would. I will… do anything,” she spat out, trembling.

“Anything?”

Yes. Yes, anything. Just stop.

“Would you be willing to abandon everything you’ve ever committed to?”

Please, don’t.

“Would you be able to become a person who you’ve crafted purely to exist here?”

Everything flashed before her eyes. The pirates, marines, deceits, pretences. It was too much, she couldn’t—she didn’t—

Norrington slid his finger under her chin, raising her face so that she could only look at him.

“What if…” His voice penetrated her to the core, caressed her mind in the best and worst ways possible. “You could be doing the same thing you’ve been doing… Except that your loyalty would _slightly_ shift.”

“What…” Voice failed her. “You want me to go undercover?”

“Imagine the possibilities. You could take revenge on those who ever affronted you. Apply your own rules. And your record would be cleared because you’d benefit the Navy.”

“…Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Y/N hesitated. It’s not like she didn’t believe Norrington, he was certainly capable of executing his proposal. But it made no sense. Not at all!

“Why are you doing this?” She couldn’t help asking. There was absolutely no reason why this influential man would spare her life, no matter how useful she might be. “The benefits aren’t so great for you to risk it.”

Norrington smiled, this time without that icy twinkle in his yes. His hand moved from under her chin to her cheek.

“It’s simple. I’m giving in to my fascination.”

He captured her lips, the surprise causing her to stumble; he caught her just in the nick of time as they both fell over his sofa, limbs entangled and lips connected in a heated kiss. Her mind went completely blank. Was this a new bribe technique? A mind game to convince her to agree? Because she was starting to fall for it—

Oh, to hell with that, she thought and wrapped her arms around Norrington’s neck, pulling him closer.

There was no telling how much time had passed. First there was nothing – nothing but them – and then they withdrew, so barely that their foreheads were still touching. Y/N raised her palm to feel Norrington’s skin and he kissed her fingers.

“What if I betray you. I could escape and you’d never hear from me again,” she breathed heavily.

He smiled again. The smile, alike to his body, was warm.

“Yes, you could. But you won’t, because just like me, you suffer from a bad case of fascination.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't turn out quite like I had expected it to. I guess both Norrington and the reader are too headstrong to get forced into a cliche love story. I hope you enjoyed this nonetheless and didn't mind the mess too much!


End file.
